


You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Edgeplay, F/M, Fingerfucking, Infidelity, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Penis In Vagina Sex, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Summary: Gene comforts Reader during an anxiety attack on the boat ride to England.
Relationships: Eugene Roe/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> QUICK NOTE for context: hysteria is an old timey (but not old timey enough, tbh) diagnosis that male doctors would diagnose women with whenever they had any symptom of mental illness/defiant behavior/wanted too much sex/didn’t want sex enough/had a seizure/ had an opinion of her own/etc. 
> 
> Hysteria (aka ‘wandering womb’) could be treated/ was treated often by having a MALE doctor give the woman an, um ‘therapeutic massage’
> 
> tl;dr: MALE DOCTORS WOULD JERK WOMEN OFF UNTIL THEY ORGASMED AND THEIR WOMBS STOPPED WONDERING. LITERALLY. THAT’S IT*
> 
> *there’s more to it but this is all you crazy cats need for context today ok bbs?

You’re out of breath, your lip trembling as your eyes flit over his state of undress just as thoroughly as his take in yours.

Gene had seen you in your PT gear, off in the distance where you and the other nurses did your exercises away from the prying eyes of men.

He’d always considered himself respectful of women, something his mother and grandmother and aunts had instilled in him from a very young age- he knew better than to see a woman in the lewd way his brothers in training were apparently incapable of doing.

Even when you’d helped him practice the triage bandaging techniques, he’d made sure to only touch the bare skin of your legs when he absolutely had to. Well, he _had_ until the two of you had almost kissed, but even _then_ he’d been hyper-aware of where his fingertips rested.

But now, he couldn’t _help_ **_but_ ** notice you- from the enticing way your sleep shorts hit your upper thighs to the hardness of your nipples beneath your shirt. 

God, you were so pretty it hurt. 

After physically shaking his head to refocus himself, Gene ushered you in, gently closing the door behind him before redirecting his focus to your obvious distress.

“Hey, _hey-_ are you alrigh’ _Ma Chatounette_?” he asks, hands coming up to hold your shoulders automatically when he sees the shine of fear in your eyes. “Whas’ the mattuh, Swee’heart—?”

You suck in a shaking breath, shaking your head frantically as you sniff back tears. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in an anxious tone, looking down to avoid his imploring look. “I’m sorry, Gene, I shouldn’t have come—”

“ _No, no!_ ” he steps closer and shakes his head as well, moving his hands from your shoulders to hold your face and run his thumbs across your cheeks, desperate to offer you some sensation to ground yourself with. “Don’ be sorry, _Minette-_ jus’ tell me was’ wrong?”

Another hitched breath choked down your throat, and if Gene hadn’t been sure that you were having a panic attack before he certainly was now. Judging by the look of shame on your face, he thinks that you’re probably aware of it, too.

Of course, that didn’t help much. If anything, he thought to himself, your self-awareness was probably making you feel worse.

Your fingers are cold as you wrap them around his wrists, and it takes you a few more breaths before you can reply. 

“I-I just thought I could _handle it_ ,” you nearly sob, using your hold on his wrists to press his hands more firmly into your cheeks. “But I can’t stop thinking- _sniff_ \- that there’s n-nothing to stop this ship from... _oh God!_ ”

Oh... _OH_. Okay.

Everything was starting to make sense now.

How on edge you’d seemed the past two days? The distracted look in your eyes? How pale you’d looked as you’d boarded the boat with all the other nurses?

You were scared of _drowning_ . _Boats_. Maybe the ocean in general.

Gene had assumed that you weren’t afraid of anything- not lecherous Paratroopers or a shrieking Sobel or getting your hands bloody or even jumping out of a _goddamned_ plane. 

This reminder that you were, in fact, human endeared you to him even more. 

“ _Alrigh’_ ” he nodded, pressing his mouth to your forehead as sighing deeply. “It’s alrigh’ Y/N, I won’ let anythin’ bad ’happen to ya—”

“I _know_ it’s stupid,” you interrupt him, sliding your hands down his forearms before stepping into him and wrapping your arms desperately around his torso and turning your face into his neck. “I’m _sorry_ , you must think I’m an idiot—”

Cupping one hand behind your neck and pressing his palm wide in between your shoulder blades, Gene clicks his tongue at your self-admonishment.

“I don’ think you’re n’idiot, _Ma Chatounette._ Not f’this. Jus’ match ya breathin’ w’mine…. _Thas’it. Gud’girl, jus’ like tha’._ ”

As if you two are dancing, you lean against him and slow your breathing, the feeling of the air slipping past your lips making his neck tickle. Selfishly, Gene allows himself to take comfort in the warmth of your embrace, the sweet, clean smell of your hair. Even though his body is acutely aware of the press of your breasts against his chest, any carnal ideas are overpowered by the overwhelming sense of comfort and satisfaction having you in his arms is bringing him.

He almost startles when you speak again, his surprise being replaced with relief at the more even cadence of your voice.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” you say quietly, distracting him with the sensation of your finger’s gentle scratching up and down his back through his shirt. “I should’ve dealt with this _on my own—_ ”

“Stop apologizin’, Y/N. There’s _nuthin_ t’apologize for—”

“Maybe that guest lecturer had more of a point about hysteria then we gave him credit for, huh?”

Every muscle in Gene’s body goes rigid and he feels his face grow red.

Oh, right. _THAT_ lecturer.

The one you’d proclaimed as ‘ _an overconfident pervert with a doctorate’_.

The guy who’d thought it _critical_ for the medics to learn how to perform the ‘ _massage treatment_ ’ for female hysteria because ‘ _nothing is worse for morale and productivity than a hysterical nurse_ ’.

You’d left just as the old man had begun to list all the ‘symptoms’ of hysteria, rolling your eyes as the man made a comment that one of the symptoms was ‘ _disrespectful behaviors toward figures in authority_ ’.

Gene had left not long after, following the mass exodus of the other nurses and a few medics upon the old doctor’s request for a female volunteer so he could demonstrate the massage to the class.

You bringing it up now only served to remind him about the last time you’d talked about it. The time you’d let him practice the upper thigh wound binding techniques he’d been struggling with.

 _The time you and he had almost kissed._

As if you could read his mind, you stopped your rhythmic scratching and held your breath.

“Damnit.... _I’m sorry,_ ” you whisper, taking a step backward so you are no longer pressed so closely against him.

You don’t meet his wide-eyed gaze, and Gene swears he can see a flush in your cheeks as well. “ _Fuck_ , I just keep stepping in it, don’t I—?”

“ _Stop apologizin’_.” 

Both you and he seem surprised by the low pitch of his admonishment, your eyes flashing up to meet his as the color in your cheeks darkens. He can’t help but catch the way you swallow nervously, and only feels somewhat guilty for it.

He knows that you feel as if you’d pressured him in some way during your last moment of intimacy, that you’d somehow taken advantage of him.

Gene also knows that you were beating yourself up for thinking about him in that sort of way when you technically had a fiance- despite the fact that your engagement had been forced upon you by both Peter and your families as a condition for supporting your desire to enlist as a military nurse.

He had never thought that he’d ever want to be involved with someone who was already spoken for, even if the relationship was clearly destined to fall apart. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted you. He longed for you more than anything else he’d ever longed for before. 

He had a feeling that he’d want you even if you were happily married _and_ had a family. 

But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty about it...didn’t feel guilty _enough_ to stay away from you.

_Maybe that made him a bad person. Even if it did, he wasn’t sure that he cared._

This time when he takes your face in his hands, your lips part and your eyelids become heavy. The furrow between your brows is the only sign of guilt that he sees on your face, his concern that he may be pushing this too far quelled when Gene feels one of your hands spread out across his stomach before gently rubbing the cotton of his shirt between your fingers.

“Prolly should’a stuck ‘round t’see what the geezuh had t’say, in hindsigh’….”

You don’t reply initially, your focus having drifted down to his mouth as he spoke. When Gene says your name, you nod slowly- as if your blood has gone to molasses in your veins.

“ _So pretty,_ ” he cannot help but sigh as your eyes move back to meet his. “ _God_ **_damn_ ** _, Swee’heart, how’re you so pretty?”_

You hum low in your throat, eyes falling closed when he leans forward and kisses your forehead. The hand you have on his stomach smooths open wide again, your motion unknowingly sparking a fire somewhere deep in his stomach.

A wicked idea settles in his mind. Had he not been drunk on you, he probably would’ve been ashamed for what he was about to do.

“Y/N?” Gene murmurs as he steps back enough to watch your face.

“ _Hm_?” you purr, your eyes still shut softly.

“ _Get on the cot._ ”

Your eyes snap open, a deep wrinkle of confusion accompanying your sharp intake of breath.

As you open your lips to respond, Gene watches as you search for the right words, as if you’re torn between asking for further explanation and trying to ask if he is sure he wants to be asking you to do that.

When Gene runs his finger across your bottom lip, you seem to settle on a decision. 

Taking another deep breath, you square your shoulders and set your jaw.

“ _Kiss me first_.”

You’ve barely completed your command before he kisses you soundly, Gene’s heart fluttering as you grip at his shirt to pull him closer. Something about the way your mouth curls and dances with his has him feeling an almost juvenile giddiness, it has his heart racing and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

As he brushes his tongue against yours he feels his blood rush down to his cock, and when you sigh he’s reminded that he’s upheld his part of the bargain.

You try and follow his mouth when he pulls away, a frown twisting your face as he takes a step back so you’re no longer touching him.

“The _cot_ , Y/N. Take off y’shorts an’ underwear….”

It surprises him how quickly you obey, your eyes still on him as you hook your thumbs in the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties and work the fabric down your legs. The rise and fall of your chest heady now rather than anxious as you lower yourself down on the raised cot and wait for his next instruction.

Gene has to wet his lips before following you, sitting beside you and carefully resting his hand on your thigh and lowering his eyes in time to watch gooseflesh prickle across your skin. A sense of pride has his chest feeling warm, the visual confirmation that you’re wanting him even a _fraction_ as much as he knows he wants you only serving to make that growing fire in his belly flare.

Moving backward so his back is against the wall, Gene places a foot on either side of the narrow cot and gives a small nod when he sees you looking at him.

With only a _slight_ hesitation, you turn your back to him and move back until you are sat solidly in the _V_ of his spread thighs, shyly turning to glance over your shoulder as you settle there.

He’s not used to seeing you unsure of yourself, but he’d be lying if he said that seeing you like this didn’t add to the thrilling adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“ _Lay back, Swee’heart_ ,” he insists quietly. “ _Lemme take care’a ya_.”

He hears you swallow as you carefully twist back around before slowly leaning yourself backward until your back is leaning against his front, your thudding heartbeat rivaling his own and your head carefully resting against his shoulder. Each and every movement you’re making is guarded, as if you fear that you’re going to do something wrong.

It made Gene’s palms itch, made his fingers tremble- seeing someone as capable and powerful as he knew you to be suddenly behaving as if _he_ were the one in control. He briefly wondered what that said about him.

Your thighs were pressed together as you pulled them up with the bend of your knees, and when Gene runs the back of his short nails up the length of them he can feel you clear your throat and release a sigh.

“We can stop,” he hears himself saying as he cups your knees with his palms. “ _Any time_ y’wanna, y’know that righ’?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, but soon you nod and turn your face so he can feel your eyelashes blinking against his neck.

“I…. _I don’t want you to stop_.”

Gene releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he uses his hold on your knees to pull your legs open and apart, having to bite back a groan when he feels the soft skin of your inner thighs jump under his light touch.

He was in no way an expert at these sorts of things, having only been with three women in his life up until now. Gene knew what felt good and had a pretty good idea what he could do to make his partner feel good, although that knowledge hadn’t done much to quell his anxiety all of the other times he’d had sex.

But this was different….. he’d never been anxious like _this_ before. What he was feeling _now_ was a foreign, anticipatory anxiety- a feeling that had his mouth both _dry_ and _watering_ simultaneously while his body couldn’t decide whether to go _fast_ and indulge in the pleasures of your body or to go _syrupy slow_ and savor each brush of your skin beneath his hands. 

On top of all these conflicting sensations and thoughts, Gene wanted to just make _you feel good_. 

The fact that you were allowing yourself to be at his mercy made him want to do everything in his power to be worthy of your trust, to show you that he _knew_ the moral grey area that you’d allowed him to take you into and that he wasn’t going to abuse that trust and leave you alone in it once he’d gotten his fill of you.

You’d once told him that you’d hoped to feel loved someday, and how you’d begun to doubt that Peter would ever truly love you if you didn’t bend to his demands and expectations.

Gene would be goddamned if he didn’t at least _try_ to give that to you.

Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he cannot help but admire the sight of your sex- the thatch of hair that shone with the slick of your arousal that had slipped past your lips, the darker flesh color that peeked from between the strands. He wasn’t able to stop himself from cursing under his breath when he finally touched his middle finger to the seam of your sex and found it hot and wet, feeling your hand clutch at his upper thigh at the feeling of him touching you there.

“ _Oh ma chérie, tout ça pour moi_ ?” he nearly hisses as he nestles his fingers in between the slick petals and realizes just how drenched you are. “D’ya have any idea how _soft_ y’are?”

“ _Gene_ ,” you whine, your voice high and airy. “ _Please….!_ ”

“Don’t worry, _Minette,”_ Gene whispers as he swirls his fingers through your folds, the both of you cursing to yourselves at the wet sound his action produces. "M’not gonna stop- Fuck, _tu te sens_ **_parfait_ ** _, Y/N….”_

He takes his time that night…. learning each and every fold and curve of your sex and memorizing how each part reacts under his touch. He’d just started exploring the soft heat inside of your sex by the time you tearfully begin begging for him to make you cum, and Gene was genuinely embarrassed that he’d gotten you so worked up without realizing it.

You were babbling praise for him like a sinful brook when he pairs a certain crook of his fingers with the rub of his thumb and makes you come apart, having unintentionally edged you for so long that your orgasm seems to _literally_ rip through your body.

Your hands are thrown over your head and clutching at him for dear life as your hips buck and your legs flex and you _squeeze_ his fingers so tightly that at one point he can barely piston them in _or_ out of you- having to settle for rolling his palm against your clit until you nearly shout.

“ _Kiss me,_ ” you sob as you choke back another cry of pleasure. “ _Please kiss me, Gene I need you to kiss me oh god I need—!_ ”

It’s an awkward kiss, but he can’t imagine denying you right now when you’re mewling for him so sweetly.

By the time you stop shaking, you’ve managed to turn in his hold so you are laying across his chest and panting into his shirt while he traces his fingers lightly up and down your spine. 

Because you _clearly_ are some nymph made flesh, you’ve somehow managed to work your hand into his boxers and managed to wring an orgasm from him as well, leaving him so blissfully sated that he almost weeps himself. Your hips are slotted with his as you lay on top of him, your leveled-out breathing serving as a guide for him to do the same, the sweat on your bodies finally starting to cool.

“Eugene?” you ask softly, your voice heavy and lethargic in your throat.

“ _Hm_?”

With a great sigh, Gene feels you climb up his body so you’re straddling his waist with your hands braced on either side of his head. Your lips are swollen from his kisses and when you smile softly down at him he cannot help but return it.

“ _Thank you_.”

From the way you say it, he knows that you aren’t thanking him for getting you off, but for something much more profound that neither you or he have the courage to bring up.

Smoothing one of his hands up your back he presses you down enough so he can kiss you deeply, sighing happily when he feels you shift your weight to your elbows so you can thread your fingers through his hair.

“I’m never gonna say this again,” you murmur against his lips as you pull back slightly. “But my hysteria _does_ certainly feel calmed, _Dr. Roe_.”

He cannot help but smirk at that. 

“I d’know _Nurse Y/L/N_ , you'n I _both_ _know_ one experiment’s n’enough t’prove a cure….”

He feels your muscles stiffen at that, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh bursting past your lips before you pull back enough to look down at him incredulously.

“Are you...are you joking or are you- _oof_!”

You gasp as he swallows your question in another kiss, opening his mouth to capture your groan as he lifts his hips enough for you to feel his hardening cock against your still-bare sex.

“ _Only one way t’find out._ ”


	2. I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some  _ man- _ had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“ _ Froggy!” _

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

_ Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss. _

_ “Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?” _

_ With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger. _

_ “No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him. _

_ “You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?” _

_ Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him. _

_ You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes. _

_ “Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.” _

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘ _endearing_ ’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘ _upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’._

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the  _ poutiest widdle frog _ ?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her stepdaddy’s one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a  _ little _ spoiled, all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

_ “I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?” _

_ “Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and  that is certainly not happening—” _

_ Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before. _

_ “I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?” _

_“Because you’re not trustworthy!”_ your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. _“You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”_

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

_ “You’re a **nurse** , Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—” _

“ _**Fuck you**. _ ”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“ _Don’t think you can_ _**ever** put your hands on me like that ever again- on  anyone _ _. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away_.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can  _ feel _ you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You  _ sure _ about that?”

“ _ ‘Course _ I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that  _ he _ isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a _pig_ , Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and _you’ve_ _gotta see that—”_

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- _just_ _like_ _him_?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary _jus’ for the sake of it!_ _Jesus_ , Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t  _ tried _ to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you,  _ Eugene _ , but  _ some women  _ don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could  _ beg _ until _ we’re blue in the face _ and we’ll  _ still _ be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to  _ reap the benefits _ of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t  _ get _ to be happy, don’t  _ get _ to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“ _ Hey _ ,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit  _ too _ quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you  _ painfully _ clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene  _ knew _ you to be.

You were better than  _ any _ of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d  _ gotten _ you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was  _ you, you, you _ . 

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both  _ had _ to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that  _ you _ were alive and  _ he _ was alive and there was still a chance for something  _ good _ to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he  _ needed _ to remind you that you were something worthy of worship. 

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“ _ I need you _ ,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “ _ I’m so sorry, but I do _ …. _ Please, Gene! I fucking  _ **_need_ ** _ you—!” _

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it. The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“ _ Such _ a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t  _ believe _ how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from _thoughtful_ to _stream of consciousness_. It’s endearing, so  _ wildly _ endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised  _ him- _ the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before  _ someone or something  _ would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter  _ how many times _ you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He  _ hated _ it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their  _ fourteen _ medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait,  _ Minette, _ ” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

_ Focus, focus. _

“You were _ so close, _ ” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing,  _ Eugene— _ ?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘ _good girl_ ’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “ _ Fuck _ , Eugene….you don’t have to— _ ohh! _ ”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er,  _ considerable knowledge  _ of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my  _ God _ , Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “ _ Why are you….how are you so  _ **_good_ ** _?” _

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure  _ you _ that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean,  _ ma cherie _ ? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At  _ sex _ , Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it  _ good _ for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“ _ Minette _ , you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt  _ that’s _ true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“ _ Jésus Christ, cherie _ ,” he can’t help but murmur. “ _ Vous ne jouez pas juste… _ ”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“ _ Show _ me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for  _ so long…. _ ”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

_ Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis…. _

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near  _ blinding _ pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“ _ Shit _ , I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“ _ Non, non, non, non Minette…. _ just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts  _ deep,  _ your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh,  _ oh _ !”

“ _ ‘S that okay? _ ” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so  _ good _ . “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“ _ More than okay… _ . _ do that again- please don’t stop!” _

There’s something so….  _ overwhelming _ about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

_ Honest _ . Yes, that was it.

It was your  _ honesty _ that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch  _ so genuine _ and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most  _ glorious _ creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly  _ he _ regarded  _ you _ .

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You  _ had _ to know what you were doing to him.

How _devastatingly_ _close_ you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good,  _ Ma Chatounette? _ ” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“ _ Please _ ,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “ _ Please please please please—!” _

“ _ D'accord, _ ”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “ _ Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….” _

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“ _ ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—” _

“ _ Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good— _ ”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m  _ happy _ ,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I _ don’t know why _ I’m crying, I’m  _ sorry—” _

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this…. _ connection _ you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt  _ this _ with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry,  _ Minette… _ .I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“ _ I love you, _ ” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “ _ However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe. _ ”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

_ Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N). J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour. _

But for now, this was enough.


End file.
